


Through Every Version of Us

by IndigoFudge



Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Love Confessions, M/M, Ouija, Past Character Death, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27430807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoFudge/pseuds/IndigoFudge
Summary: After the events of It Chapter 2, Richie Tozier holds a séance to try to contact his Eddie Kaspbrak.He contacts an Eddie, alright - but this Eddie has glasses and fluffy blonde hair.orOneshot where 2019 Richie talks to 1990 Eddie using a séance. They both get closure.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	Through Every Version of Us

_I loved you and I'm sorry._

_I loved you and I'm sorry._

_I loved you and I'm_ _sorry._

These are the words in Richie Tozier's mouth as he sets up the ritual. He's already cleansed the space with white candles and prayed to every god he knows for protection. It felt stupid; he had to force the words out. It was worth it, though, just for the possibility of seeing Eddie again.

'Beginner séances are usually awkward,' the website had said, 'and things can go wrong.' Richie knows that, he expects that, but he still rehearses his starting sentence over and over inside his head just in case Eddie actually appears.

Mike and Bev are already sitting around the table. Séances require a minimum of three people, after all, and they're supposed to be _spiritual_ people. Richie figured these two Losers would work best because Bev was in the Deadlights and Mike knows a lot about this stuff anyway. They'd both agreed after minimal begging from Richie. ("Come on, guys," he'd pleaded. "It's Eddie. It might not work, but it's worth a try, right? I bet you both have things you want to say to him.")

Incense smoke clogs the air. Richie sits opposite Mike and Bev and they all clasp hands. Their phones sit in a pile in the next room, powered down. In the center of the table is a dish of spaghetti. As the website had explained it, food will attract spirits because they're hungry. That's paraphrasing it, at least; Richie's sure the exact words were fancier than that. He chose spaghetti for obvious reasons. He'd also made sure to light plenty of candles. It's _perfect._

"Alright, Rich, what are we supposed to say?" asks Mike.

Richie is struck by an air of familiarity. "It seems like just yesterday I was asking you that same question, Mikey," he says. "Repeat after me." Smoothing a crumpled piece of paper onto the tablecloth, he reads aloud: "Our beloved Eddie, we bring you gifts from life into death. C-commune with us, Eddie, and move among us." His voice thickens with tears as he says the incantation again, this time joined by Bev and Mike.

"Our beloved Eddie, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us, Eddie, and move among us." Their voices melt together into one and they close their eyes. "Our beloved Eddie, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us, Eddie, and move among us."

A heavy chill runs through the room, making Bev gasp. The table vibrates for a few seconds before quieting down.

"Did it work?" Richie is hesitant to stop the chant. "Eddie, are you here?"

"I- I don't know," says a thin voice.

Richie's eyes pop open. He grips Bev's and Mike's hands like his life depends on it, which he supposes it might.

There's a fourth person at the table. 

A scream leaps up into Richie's throat. "E-E-" he stammers, unable to get the name out. "E- _fuck,_ I feel like Big Bill over here." He laughs nervously, eying the strange man who sits at Mike's left.

The man swallows, wide-eyed. "Who _are_ you?" He's pale and sort of translucent, with wire glasses and fluffy blonde hair. "How do you know my name? And how do you know Bill?"

"W-We summoned you. Y-y-" Richie tries again. "You know Bill?"

"Well, yeah," says the man. _Eddie?_ "Short guy, bad stutter. Brown hair in a ponytail."

Mike, Bev, and Richie all trade a glance. "You got it right except for the ponytail, bud. Our Bill's got short hair. Although... maybe he grew it out in college or something." Richie looks at the dish of spaghetti and hesitates.

"That's possible. It was the 90s, after all," says Bev, shrugging. "How do _you_ know him?"

"He's my best friend." Other-Eddie gets a far off look in his eyes. "One of them, at least. I- I miss them. Haven't seen 'em since I died." He smiles a shaky smile that quickly disappears. "Excuse me, you said the _90s?"_

Bev nods. 

"I- I'm sorry, that's not- no, that can't be true. Bill was forty years old in the 90s." He lets out a breathy giggle. "We must be talking about different Bills. I'm thinking of Bill Denbrough, the horror author."

"So are we." Mike speaks slowly. "Eddie- Bill Denbrough, the horror author, is forty years old _right now,_ in 2016."

One of Other-Eddie's ghostly hands flies to his chest and pulls out an inhaler. "Twenty-six- _oh._ I've been dead for thirty years?! Oh- oh _God._ You mentioned you _summoned_ me here - how? And why?"

"I was trying to summon my friend! He's named Eddie, too!" Richie's face grows ashen until his skin tone nearly matches Other-Eddie's. "He died in a fight and I just wanted to tell him I'm sorry. I invited Mike and Bev along because the website said-"

Other-Eddie chokes. " _Mike?_ And _Bev?_ " Tears fill his eyes as he takes a trembling breath, staring at Richie long and hard. "Well, gee, I feel stupid saying this, but- _Richie?"_

Richie grips the edge of the table. The words get stuck and all he can say is " _Eddie?"_ He sobs, looking at Mike desperately. "I don't understand. Mikey, tell me what's going on. Why does he-?"

"Derry is... a strange place." Mike sighs. "I assume that's where you're from as well, Eddie?"

"Yes." Other-Eddie tears his gaze away from Richie, instead looking between all three of them. "So what are you saying?"

Mike looks too calm for something so crazy to be happening. "I'm saying that this has happened before. Different people, but... somehow the same." 

Richie gulps, getting up from his chair and kneeling in front of Other-Eddie. "If this is true... If you're really him..." He swipes his tears away. "If you're really him, then... you had your own Richie. And I'm willing to bet he... he... felt the same way about you as I did about my Eddie." It's taking all he can do not to dissolve into a crying mess. _I may not be able to give my Eddie the apology and love confession he deserves, but shit, this Eddie needs it just as much._

"What do you mean?" Other-Eddie's lips are parted slightly. His expression is heartbreakingly vulnerable.

"I..." Richie grins weakly. "I loved my Eddie. Like, I was _in love_ with him. I bet your Richie loved you too." 

Other-Eddie takes a puff on his ghost inhaler. "You did? I- I mean- _he_ did?"

"Yeah," breathes Richie, laughing. "Yeah, he really did. And I bet he was sorry. I bet... I bet it killed him to have to watch you die. I bet he blamed himself." His heart gives a thump in his chest. "I bet he hoped you didn't blame him back." 

"I could never. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't _yours,_ either." Other-Eddie's brow furrows. A realization comes to him. "You know, I... I bet your Eddie wants you to know that... and also that he... he loved you the same way."

Richie presses a hand to his forehead and stops trying to hold back his sobs. " _Fuck_ ," he says. "Thanks, Eddie. Your Richie cared about you so much - that's why he would always make those jokes, because he loved you and didn't know how to say it." He stands, reaching out towards Other-Eddie. 

"Your Eddie cares about you, too," murmurs Other-Eddie. "That's why he pretended to hate the nicknames. The truth was... he really liked them. They made him feel special." He gathers Richie into a hug, tensing as another chill blows through the room.

"What's happening?" Bev squints at the tornado of air that begins to surround Other-Eddie. 

Mike has to yell over the sound of the wind. "I think he's leaving." He gets to his feet, stepping closer. "Eddie, your Mike considered you to be one of the best friends he'd ever had. You always showed him kindness, even though most people didn't."

Other-Eddie pulls away from the hug. "Your Eddie feels the same, Mike. He thought you were brave and smart and loyal." As the breeze picks up, he turns to Bev. "Beverly - your Eddie loved you like a sister. He could always confide in you and he was grateful for that."

"Oh, Eddie," Bev cries, walking over to him and giving him a hug. "Your Beverly felt like you were the only person who really understood her. She wished she could have saved you." She sniffles.

Other-Eddie's form flickers. "I- I wish I could stay longer. You remind me so much of my Losers. But I think it's time for me to go."

" _Wait!"_ Richie grabs Other-Eddie's wrist. Tears streak down his cheeks. "Go where?"

They share a look then, a look where so many unsaid things pass between them. Other-Eddie understands. "I don't know, Richie," he calls. "But I know it's peaceful. Don't you worry." He closes his eyes, turning his face towards the ceiling.

Richie lets go of his wrist, and has to shield his eyes from the bright light. By the time he can see again, Other-Eddie is gone.

"Bye, Eds," he whispers. "I loved you so much."

For the first time in a couple months, his heart feels whole.


End file.
